Something Wicked This Way Comes
by writingscientist
Summary: "The air smelled like death itself, sharp and potent."


Darkness.

Darkness and silence.

It was so cold and he couldn't move any of his limbs.

The air smelled like death itself, sharp and potent.

He wanted to cry out, but something was gagging him.

Light Yagami opened his eyes.

His hands and feet had been bound together by shackles and a strip of cloth had been placed over his mouth. He appeared to be sitting in at one end of a long hallway. There was no furniture and no windows. The only source of light was a tiny candle burning at the other end of the hall.

Light squinted. He could just make out the shapes of two figures in the dim illumination. As if in response to his struggles, the candle's flame grew brighter until the two individuals could be clearly seen.

The first was standing upright and appeared to be a man, judging by the height and shape. He was dressed completely in black and face was covered by a coal-colored mask, rather like the kind once worn by executioners. His eyes were the only part of him that was visible. Light stared. They were a deep red, the color of blood, and they seemed to glow eerily in the candle's flickering light.

The second figure was sitting hunched at the first's feet. He too was a man, but thinner than his companion. His head was held close to his chest, as if in shame and, on closer inspection, Light saw that he, like Light himself, had been placed in chains. His wrists were bony, fragile looking, and they looked even tinier in those huge shackles.

The man lifted his head, slowly, as if the simple movement itself would be enough to crush him, and, judging by that malnourished frame, Light had little doubt that it just might. The chained one met the young man's gaze and Light's honeyed eyes widened in shock. A long, gaunt face. A thin, straight nose. And a pair of bottomless, obsidian eyes slightly hidden by a wild mane of raven-colored hair.

_L._ Light felt his chest tighten. All the great detective's strength, a trait that Light had always admired, seemed to have fled him. L was leveling his first, and only, friend a look of the purest sadness and defeat, broken and completely helpless. Light tried to call out to him, to question, to comfort, but the gag prevented him from making anything louder than a squeak.

The masked figure gave a tiny chuckle at Light's attempts and promptly grabbed L by the hair. The young man's face twisted in pain. From within the folds of his dark clothing, the other man produced a dagger. It was small weapon, but the tip of the blade gleamed with sharpness.

L's expression changed from one of despair to one of fear and panic. He fruitlessly struggled against his bonds, but his captor just tightened his grip on the genius's hair and yanked him up a little higher. L hissed in agony. The man made a small sound that might have been a snicker and gently began tracing the edge of the blade over his prisoner's strange, but somehow lovely, face. Those thin, but so very soft, lips, that dainty jaw and slightly pointed chin, and that elegant neck. The dagger rested patiently against L's throat, if waiting for orders.

The man turned his attention from his defenseless prisoner to look directly into Light's eyes. His own crimson pair sparkled and Light knew that there was a smile, malicious and cold, hidden behind that mask. The monster, still with his gaze fixed on Light, raised the dagger high in the air and then plunged it deep into L's heart.

The blade had hit its mark perfectly and with little trouble. L let out a short scream of pain, one so filled with agony that it hurt Light to hear it, before death finally claimed him, his blood still flowing freely from the wound, staining his pure, white shirt an ugly burgundy. The man roared in triumph, removed the dagger, and let go of L's hair, allowing his body to fall unceremoniously to the floor.

Light felt his insides burn with grief and hate. Nobody should, could, hurt L. Who could look into those huge eyes and seek their owner harm? He was so innocent and childlike. An enormous, brilliant mind, one that had the potential to change the world, and a frail, yet beautiful body, so smooth and pale, and whose only function was as a place to store that amazing mind and to consume entirely too much sugar. He was so helpless.

More importantly, he was _Light's_. He had been Light's for many months now, ever since that declaration of friendship. And Light _needed_ L, because L wasn't the only one who had never had someone close to him before. A rival. A companion. Someone to spend his life with. Someone who understood him better than he understood himself, someone who knew all his weakness and would never hurt him with them, and someone who could tell him all his flaws, yet still care for him unconditionally.

Now all of that was gone. And it hurt like hell. The bound one kicked his feet, trying to break the chains that encompassed his ankles, all the while shouting futilely against the cloth. The man regarded him, those awful eyes sparkling with cruel amusement. Light was sure he was smirking. _Damn him. Damn him to hell. If I could just see his face…_

As if hearing the young man's thoughts, the murder gestured to the cloth on his face and chuckled. He gave the chained boy look that seemed to ask "You sure you want to see?" Light growled in response. The villain shrugged and put three fingers on the bottom edge of the mask, pulling carefully, until it came off completely. He lifted his face so that it was in total illumination by that lone, little candle. Light's bugled and he choked against his gag. A handsome, heart-shaped jaw line. A medium complexion. Neatly kept brown hair. And a smile that could fool the whole world. _His_ face.

Light screamed and Kira laughed. The sounds were so identically horrible, merging until it was impossible to distinguish one from the other. Light just cried out all the louder, having lost all dignity. Wailing. Thrashing. What did it matter who saw? L was gone and soon he would be, too. He had no doubt of this. What use was he to a monster like Kira?

The candle went out.

Darkness again.

Darkness and silence.

Light just closed his eyes and continued screaming.

Then, a voice, warm and familiar, calling to him.

"Light."

It sounded very far away.

"Light?"

It was closer now.

"Light?"

It seemed to be coming from right next to him. But that was impossible, there was nothing here but darkness and despair.

"LIGHT!"

Something slapped him across the face. Light yelped and opened his eyes, catching his breath. That horrible room was gone, he was safe in his bed at Headquarters, the same one he shared with L. L, who was sitting next to him, looking startled and a little worried, but very much alive. "What's the mater, Light?"

His trusty laptop was on the nightstand, obviously having been put there in a hurry to remove it from the threat of his bedmate's flailing limbs, and one hand held a sucker. His other hand, the one not connected by their chain, was pulled back and Light knew that he had been the one to hit him, to wake him. Light looked into that wonderful face. It was so perfect, all pointed angles and overly large eyes, though those eyes were looking at him with a concerned expression. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Light didn't answer. Instead he grabbed his best friend by the front of his shirt and kissed those sugar-coated lips of his, hard. L hesitated, clearly surprised, but he quickly wasted no time in reciprocating. Light deepened the kiss enough to distract him, before pinning his paramour beneath him. L usually liked to be the one to dominate their encounters, but for once he didn't resist Light's need to mark him, to claim him as Light's and Light's alone. And Light did this with great enthusiasm.

The rest followed in a blurry mess of touches and bites and wonderful warmth. His father was a policeman, he had been taught from an early age to be strong, to never give into a weakness. So it was only after it was all over and L lay cuddled against his chest, sleeping for once and humming contently, that Light allowed the tears to fall. He couldn't lose this man. Not now. Not ever. But he knew that he would and there was nothing he could do to stop it. For something wicked this way comes.


End file.
